


Benefit

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Ficlet, PWP, Pegging, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tauriel enjoys using her prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Benefit

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Pegging. While they are mostly friends with benefits, Tauriel loves the way Legolas squirms and moans when she fucks him” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20644351#t20644351).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She used to think it cruel, in a way, that she does this to him. He used to look at her with _love_ boring past anything she could offer, and for that, she said _no_ too many times. But now they’re friends, _good_ friends, and whatever the king might have to say, Tauriel holds no judgment for what two consenting adults might do together. 

And she doesn’t want to turn Legolas away anymore when she knows exactly how far he’ll go. She’s made her feelings clear, he accepts, they’re friends with certain perks, and when she calls to him, he’ll slip into her room and let her bend him across the mattress. He splays out on all fours like a beast, rugged and beautiful, perhaps a little thick for an elf with broad shoulders and pale yellow hair that she sweeps aside. She lets him keep his tights stretched across his thighs but strips away the rest, because she likes to see his bare skin flex across his muscles, shimmering on the rare occasion where she can make him _sweat_. She kneels behind him and grabs his hips, pulling him forward. 

He lets her impale his taut rear on a thick, hard toy, crafted for just such an occasion but hardly befitting a _prince_. Perhaps if she told the smith who she wanted it for, they would’ve encrusted it with jewels. Or told Thranduil. Not a risk worth taking. So Legolas will have to take the crude and cheaply made makeshift cock, sliding right into his wet hole to make him gasp around the edges. She thrusts her hips forward slow and steady. She keeps dressed when she can, and the straps of the toy fit fine over her own tights, a sleeveless tunic covering the rest of her. When she’s in far enough, she lets her hands stray from his trim waist to the curve of his spine, the length of his shoulder blades and all the creamy skin between. She brushes some of his silken hair over his shoulders, though other times she’s fisted in it and used it to hoist him up, tug him back to bite his neck or make him _scream_.

There are a number of things she likes to do with him. Even if she doesn’t _love_ him, Legolas is so very handsome, and he’s skilled: a gentle, caring lover with the capacity to fuck hard and _rough_. He’s good with his hips, his hands, his mouth. But most of all, she loves the way he squirms and moans beneath her when she fucks him. She shifts her hips, gets good leverage with her knees in the mattress, bracketing his, and then she pulls back to _slam_ inside, so hard that he goes rocking forward. She grabs his hips, holds him steady, and does it again, brutal and quick, because Legolas can take it and only moans her name, deep and wanting. 

There are no titles in the bedroom. Anywhere else, Tauriel might stop, ask what her prince could want, but here, she just fucks him harder, hips setting a relentless pace. She drags out the toy, enjoys the glistening oil slicked around its base, dragged right out of him, and shoves back inside to fill him up, stretch his red, puckered hole wider than her fingers or tongue ever do. She can’t feel the clenching of his inner walls, but she can see the tremors in his body, and she can feel the quivering of his hips in her hands. She squeezes them, kneads him, runs greedy fingers up and down to dig in bruises that’ll heal before they’re done. She fucks him like _he’s_ a toy, and he takes it so very prettily. 

For as quiet as they can be on the hunt, Legolas is vocal for her. He gasps and moans when she hits the right angle, whimpers when she doesn’t, tosses his head back when she fills him hard enough and drops his head when she stays out too long. A few times, he loses breath. He screams on others. He tenses his shoulders, trying to hold himself up, and she has to force herself not to lean down and lick the tips of his ears and caress his chest, pinch his nipples and even squeeze his cock. Not today. She just wants a _quick fuck_ before her next shift, so she stays up and aloof. She lets her pleasure be the sight of him, the sound of him, a little bit the smell. Before long, he’s panting; she tears him apart like nothing else. 

She can see his fists clenching in the sheets. He moans, “ _Tauriel_ ,” again and again, and she’s kind this time and lets him, because it spurs her on. The slapping sound of her hips against him and the squelch of the toy inside are just as loud. He writhes on it, even rocks back onto it, and she thinks that whoever he does _really_ end up with will either have a real cock or their own toys to play with him, because he clearly likes this too much and _longs_ to be fucked open. She gives it to him in spades. One hard thrust after another, until his moans are pleas, and he’s begging for a release she rushes him to. She’s made red marks along his hips. 

He comes with a cry, never having touched himself but wanting her enough, and she keeps stabbing into him to milk it out. He splatters her sheets, arching beautifully. She drinks in the noise and _stares_ at him, his perfect curves and his plush, flushed-pink cheeks jiggling with her harsh movements, and finally, he’s spent, and he bows his head, staying up for her to use. 

She pulls out of him anyway. She never actually wants to hurt him, though the bruises linger on his sides. She practically rips off the toy, tossing it aside to bounce in the mattress, her hand replacing it. She uses the other hand to push him down by the small of his back, and he hits the mattress with a grunt, while she pinches her clit and rubs herself off to the sight of him. Half of what gets her off is the power trip—she can dominate one of the most powerful men in Mirkwood—she just fucked _Thranduil’s son_ —and she can do it again and he’ll _beg for it._ And the rest of it is just how perfect he looks, sweat-slicked and fucked open. 

She finishes herself off a moment later, aware he’s watching but too pleasure-high to care. She’s never had a bad orgasm with Legolas, even when she doesn’t let him touch her. This is no exception, though she thinks of fucking his face while she milks herself out, full of lewd images and dizzy spells. 

Finally, she’s done. She sits there, breathing hard, his blue eyes staring up at her. She takes a minute to come lie down beside him, needing to recover. 

He gives her that moment, then murmurs, “We should get back to duty. My father will not be pleased if he learns you are late while I am missing.”

She almost laughs. He wouldn’t be pleased with any of this. But it gives her a strange joy knowing that the next time Thranduil makes her life difficult, she’ll remember fucking his son. In some ways, she _wants_ him to know. 

In other ways, it’s not worth it, and she climbs off the bed and takes Legolas’ hand, tugging him aside to the washroom.


End file.
